


Loving him was red

by Adara_Rose



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Can't add suitable warnings without spoiling ending, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Date, First Night Together, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Kissing, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot Twist, Plot twist from hell, Porn With Plot, Pre-Season/Series 06, Rimming, Romance, Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, can't add warnings without spoiling endings sorry, can't say more without giving spoilers, see end notes for warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4818701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight is the night. Their first date. Patrick is most definitely not nervous as he rings Kimball Cho's doorbell. He clutches the flowers in his hand so hard the stems threatening to break. Tonight has to be perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loving him was red

**Author's Note:**

> Set pre season 4, due to events I will not mention because of spoilers.
> 
> See end notes for warnings.

This night has been coming for quite some time now. They have been building up to it with alternating quick glances and long looks, little quips and feather-light touches not noticed by anyone else even when in public. But the knowledge that this has been in the works for months does little to ease Jane's nerves as he shifts from foot to foot just outside Cho's front door. He's bought flowers and he's clutching the bouquet so hard he's running the risk of having the stems break in his hand. This is ridiculous, he is never nervous. Except for tonight. Tonight is important. He wants to get this right: he's got his best black dress pants and a red silk shirt on, knowing it suits him well. He’s styled his hair with a bit of gel and brushed his teeth at least five times. It was the first afternoon in his life he had free and did not spend thinking about his wife.He feels slightly ashamed, like he is betraying her memory, but he knows deep inside that if she could she’d whack him over the head and say it was about damn time he met someone new.

 

When Cho opens the door, Patrick’s breath is knocked out of him. Ther man is standing there in a suit that seems to be painted on in the way it clings just right to his body, accenting his long legs and broad shoulders. It is a sharp, dark grey that makes Cho’s skin glow like gold. He is absolutely stunning and really, Patrick is ready to rip of his clothes and demand sex right there and then. But he doesn’t; he wants this to be just right, Cho deserves perfection.

“You look great” he says, trying to sound charming as he hands over the flowers. Cho’s eyes light up with pleasure.

“Thank you. And thank you for the flowers.” The door opens a bit more. “Come in, I’ll just put them in some water.”

He waits in the hallway, feeling a bit awkward as Cho fusses in the kitchen. Finally the man emerges, smiling, and comes toward him.

“Let’s go.” He says. Patrick hesitates for a moment, then takes his hand.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

 

The drive to the restaurant is surprisingly quiet, but there is none of the awkwardness that Patrick had anticipated. Instead, there is a charge in the air speaking of both passion and happiness to be here, on this night, in this car, with this man. At the restaurant, Patrick passes his keys to the valet and opens the door for Cho, who looks amused but indulges his desire to appear as a gentleman. They are seated at a quaint little table with a white cloth, lit candles and a single red rose in a small glass vase. Perfect, just like he had requested.

“This is… gorgeous” Cho remarks as he looks around the room.

“Yes, it is” Patrick agrees, not for a moment tearing his eyes away from his date’s face. “Perfect.”

 

The food is excellent, but Patrick doesn’t taste one bite. All he is aware of is the man sitting in front of him as they talk about a wide range of subjects, from sports to arts and music, both careful to avoid work. They do laugh about colleagues, teasing each other about different procedures and behaviors, but only in passing. He learns that Cho plays the piano, that he likes to read mystery novels (no surprise there), that He has seen every episode of Supernatural at least three times and can quote most of them and is an avid “Destiel shipper” which he has to explain when Patrick looks at him blankly. But first, he laughs; his head thrown back, teeth sparkling, adam’s apple bobbing and Patrick wants to walk around the table and crawl onto the man’s lap, kissing him until neither of them can breathe. Instead, he takes another bite of his pasta and admits to having read David Eddings’ The Belgariad more times than he can count, the books stained with time with cracked spines and torn pages, and that he cried last year when his copy of Magician’s Gambit finally fell apart. Cho makes sympathetic noises and mentions his own copy of Those Who Walk Away from Omelas by Ursula K. LeGuin and how the day he lost it on an airplane had been a day of heartbreak. They smile at each other in mutual understanding and sympathy.

 

Cho has chocolate mousse for dessert, and Patrick pokes distractedly at his own cheesecake as he stares in increasing arousal at the way the other man devours it. Soft little moans of pleasure fall unendingly from lush lips as each spoon is slowly pulled out of his mouth, licked clean and lowered slowly into the bowl. By the time he’s halfway through Patricks trousers are three sizes too small and he’s squirming in his seat, hungry for things he has never been interested in before.

 

“Waiter” he gasps, breathless, managing to catch the eye of the woman who has served them all night. She hurries over and gives them a polite smile.

“Yes, sirs?”  
“Check, please” Patrick says not tearing his eyes away from the soft core porn show taking place on the other side of the table. Cho chooses that moment to look up at him with his dark, dark eyes alight with amusement. Bastard, he’s been doing it on purpose! He runs the tip of his pink tongue slowly over the back of the spoon and Patrick nearly whimpers with hunger. He practically throws money at the waitress, not even looking at the amount he owes. The waitress beams at him for the fifty percent tip, thanks them both for their patronage and wishes them a good night. The moment she leaves Patrick drags Cho out of the restaurant.

“Hey!” Cho protests, still sounding amused. “Why the hurry?” Patrick slams him up against the wall outside the restaurant and kisses him hungrily, frantically, clutching at his shoulders. Cho growls low in his throat and flips them over, pressing Patrick hard against the rough stone and shoving a leg between his thighs. Patrick moans desperately as their erections press together through the fabric of their trousers.

“Fuck… Cho…” He moans, grinding against the other man.

“Call me Kim.” Is groaned against his neck as teeth rake lightly over the skin, making little shocks of pleasure shoot through his entire body.

“Kim” he groans, “take me home.”

 

+++

 

They stumble through Kim’s front door a tangle of limbs, joined at the mouth. Patrick’s shirt ends up on the floor, soon joined by Kim’s elegant jacket and slacks.

“Have you ever…” Kim asks as he rips of Patrick’s shirt, “with a man?”

“Noooooo” he moans as his feverish skin is bathed in the cool evening air. It feels soo good. Socks, trousers, underwear goes flying in all directions, he has no idea where and it does not matter when Kim presses hungry, open-mouthed kisses to his neck, hands kneading his buttocks and pressing him close to the other man’s scorching body.

 

Patrick has no idea how he ended up on Kim’s bed but he doesn’t care; he wants to be there, needs to be there. Kim is lying close to him, muddling his brain with deep, heady kisses that make his head spin and body ache for more, but at the same time it is like he could lie here forever and just... kiss. Kim’s lips are warm and soft, moulding against his like they were created for it. Their tongues meet and writhe in a dance as old as time, but at the same time completely new. For all the wild desperation he felt at the restaurant, now he is calm, languid, content to just lie there as Kim kisses his way down his naked chest, stopping to lick his nipples to hardened peaks. He moans and buries his fingers in his lover’s hair.

“Kim… please…”

Kim keeps kissing him, licking the heaving stomach, learning the shape of his hips, before finally finding his way to Patrick’s throbbing cock. He starts out with light little kitten licks that are barely felt, before increasing the pressure until he is licking from base to root, sucking briefly at the head before sliding back down. Patrick sobs with pleasure, back arching.

“Oh! oh please!”

That devilish tongue moves down further, past his balls and in between his thighs, finding his hidden opening and setting about teasing it open. Patrick squeals at the first intrusion, holding his thighs back to provide better access.

“Oh.. what are you.. ah. Kim… please.. ooh.” he moans and whimpers continuously as Kim rims him, never having felt anything that came even near the pleasure of this. No wonder it was so popular; it felt like he was melting onto that wicked tongue. When a slick finger worms it’s way inside, he cries out loudly. The finger moves in and out slowly, but soon Kim deems him ready and adds a second one. They twist and press and scissor him open, making him press his own hand to his mouth to keep from screaming with pleasure. Kim’s mouth is on his cock, and the dual sensations threaten to drive him out of his mind. when Kim finally, finally presses inside it hurts, it burns like fire and tears fill his eyes. BUt he does not ask him to stop; he wants this, needs this, needs to feel something else than emptiness and shame and guilt. ANd besides, he has done his research, hasn’t he? Ok, so he’s watched porn. But it has to feel good at one point, right?

Kim moves slowly against him, pressing in only a little before pulling out, letting Patrick’s body get used to the intrusion. Soon, the pain is nearly gone and pleasure has taken it’s place. Patrick cries out loudly as Kim finds his prostate, setting of an explosion of colors in his mind. That seems to be some sort of cue, because with a low groan Kim lies down on top of him so that they touch all over, hikes Patrick’s legs up around his waist and starts fucking him. The change in position lets him in further and Patrick’s cries increase in volume and speed, soon enough he is screaming for more, harder, faster, fuck me! god! yes! FUCK ME!. It feels like dying and being born and the world is ending and everything has just begun. Like he is being remade on Kim’s cock, ripped apart and formed into someone new. He wraps his legs around Kim’s hips and moans in pleasure every time his cock presses against his prostate. Soon enough Kim is fucking him hard enough to make the bed bang out a rhythm against the wall that is obscene and exciting at the same time. Every nerve ending in Patrick’s body is singing with pleasure and he rakes his nails down his lover’s back, crying out his name as his orgasm rips through him, making his toes curl, his thigh seize up, his asshole clench almost painful around the intruder, his eyes roll back in his head as his vision whites out.

 

When Patrick comes to, he’s on his stomach and a wet tongue is buried in his ass as far as it can get.

“Fuck, Kim” he pants, “what are you-” Kim makes a noise that sounds almost like laughter.

“I made a bit of a mess” he says, “I’m just… cleaning up.” Then he goes back to his task with a vigour that soon enough has Patrick squealing with pleasure again, arching and writhing under Kim’s administrations. He grinds his hard, hungry cock into the mattress and begs in a hoarse voice to be taken, wants Kim in him again. Wants to feel the intense, wild rush of ecstasy.

 

Kim pulls him up on all fours, pressing into him from behind. His cock opens Patrick’s passage in a new way, a different angle that is just as pleasurable as the previous one. They both moan deeply as Kim bottom’s out, hips pressed flush against Patrick’s ass. He clenches his anal muscles experimentally.

“Fuck, Patrick, you’re-” Kim groans somewhere behind him, pulling out slowly.

“Fuck me” he demands, breathless.

“Yes, sir.” He snaps his hips forward hard, burying himself to the root in one hard thrust. Patrick calls out in pleasure and the race is on, Kim fucking him almost brutally hard. He has to brace himself on his elbows to keep from sliding too far forward, and Kim grips his hips with an almost painful strength that only serves to make him wilder. Kim rides his ass fast and hard, muscles flexing, legs tensing, rutting like a beast and Patrick takes it all, yelling and screaming with pleasure. It’s too good, too much, and he comes with one last drawn out howl. He falls forward onto the bed, arms giving out under him, and Kim follows him down. He fucks Patrick through his orgasm, but gentler now, as if he is making love. It’s almost painful, the way Kim keeps moving inside his oversensitized hole. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to him to ever, ever stop.

Kim kisses Patrick’s sweaty neck, enjoying how the other man trembles beneath him as his orgasm ebbs out.

“You are wonderful” he whispers, awed, and Patrick can’t help but smile as he presses his hips back to meet him.

“Oh, Kim” he pants. He turns his head to the side, wanting a kiss, and gets it. They move together languidly, sweetly, until Patrick feels his hunger rise again. Then Kim rolls then onto their side, so that he can keep fucking Patrick and stroke his hardening cock at the same time. Patrick’s hand covers his and they stroke together, Patrick pressing his hips back whenever Kim pushes in, feeling the penetration to the depth of his being. This is beautiful, this is them completely open and raw for each other and he has never felt anything like this before, not even with his wife whom he loved so very, very much. He closes his eyes as the waves of pleasure sweep him away, and chokes out explosive words, words that can rip the entire universe apart.

“I love you” he sobs as he comes for the second time and he knows it’s true. It’s terrifying and devastating but nonetheless true. He can feel Kim smile into his sweaty neck.

“I love you, too.” And Patrick falls asleep with a smile on his face, wrecked and shattered and exhausted and deliriously happy. But more than that, he is in love.

 

+++

 

The night is late, and Patrick lies sleeping close to his new lover. His face looks peaceful, a small smile on his face, and Kim lies awake just watching him. He has dreamt of this night for so long, and he carefully places kisses over Patrick’s eyes, nose, cheeks, lips. There he lies, his perfect man, his at least. He smiles lovingly, adoringly, and steals another kiss.

 

Then he slowly crawls out of bed, careful so as not to wake his sleeping companion. He walks into the kitchen on bare feet, stopping to have a glass of water. He looks out on his garden in the moonlight. It is a beautiful place, full of serenity and he will miss it. But there is nothing to be done about it, now. He finishes his glass of water and rinses it carefully before placing it on the  dish rack to dry. Then he stands still for a long moment, before closing his eyes briefly and drawing a long, deep breath.

 

He opens the top drawer by the stove and takes out the item on the far left, before slowly walking back to the bedroom. He stops by the edge of the bed, watching the man sleeping in it. He is sleeping too deeply to have noticed Kim’s absence, and he cannot help but smile. He lets his eyes feast on the naked body, takes in the passion marks and scratches, the planes of his stomach and the sweetly peaked nipples, pretty cock and delicious ass. It was, no doubt, the best night of his life in the arms of this man. If the circumstances had been different, there would be more nights. Dozens, hundreds of nights of passion and pleasure. Lazy mornings with breakfast in bed, calling in sick and spending the day making love just because it was raining outside… He sighs. If wishes were horses. He leans over Patrick and kisses him again, slipping his tongue inside to taste him, imprint the memory of him in his mind.

 

Hesitating only briefly, he knows what he must do. But his heart is crying out to him not to; go back to bed, hold Patrick, sleep, have sex with him again in the morning or wake him up for a repeat performance right now! Wake him up and tell him you love him, have always loved him, will always love him! But he doesn’t. Self perseverance wins out and he slowly raises the knife. He takes his time now, carefully placing the tip of the blade just below the shell of patrick’s ear, checking his face for any awareness. None. He sleeps. Slowly, but with a steady hand, he slides the knife down under Patrick’s chin and around to the other ear. The blood sprays out and keeps pumping with every heartbeat, rapidly faltering and slowing down. Soon there are no more gushes of blood, no movement, no heartbeat. He leans down and coats his fingers in the bright red substance, letting some of it fall into his mouth. It tastes almost as sweet as Patrick's kisses, or his semen. He turns to the wall he has chosen for the shock value and paints the symbol that has been connected with him for years; a red, crooked smiley face.

 

Before the dawn he will be gone; he has already prepared a go-bag with false papers and a cheap ticket out of the country. But before he leaves the house where he had been happy, where he had finally gotten to be with the man he loved, He takes one last look at his face. He will allow himself to take one memory with him as he leaves the personality of Kimball Cho behind forever in the arms of a dead man.

He chooses to remember how Jane smiled as he fell asleep, before he slit his throat.

He had looked… happy.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This involves the murder of Patrick Jane by Kimball Cho/Red John.


End file.
